


Spitting Fire

by dovingbird



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Frottage, M/M, Ninja Ship Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:24:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for the kinkgrumps LJ. "Dan's giving Brian a tour of the office when no one else is around and they fuck on Dan's desk. Throw in whatever other kinks you desire, just know this anon definitely has a thing for Brian dirty talking. >)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spitting Fire

Things are different now that Danny and Brian are fucking. But not in, like...not in a HUGE way, just...just...  
  
"Dan, seriously, nice ass, but if you're going to keep standing in the door like this, we're never going to get anywhere."  
  
That. Things like that. The fact that now Brian's voice is less joking when he says that shit and more teasing. Danny scoffs as he looks over his shoulder. "As if you don't like looking at my ass."  
  
"What exists of it, at least." And the fact that Brian just grabs his ass like it's nothing, pushes him a bit out of the way so he can get past. He's such an entitled asshole sometimes. Like the fact that he's super brilliant and super gorgeous and that he super has an award for Best Eyes and Best Cock ever lets him just push Danny around whenever he wants.  
  
Not that Dan's complaining, mind you. Not in his head, at least.  
  
"Jesus Christ, Brian, just shove me on the ground, why don't you."  
  
Brian glances over his shoulder and gives him this knowing smile. And that's all he needs to do. By the time he's facing straight ahead again Danny's swallowing down the adrenaline pricking at his veins like venom from a snake.  
  
The new Grumps office is fucking fantastic, honestly, big and roomy and where they can all work together with their own personal space rather than squeezed on a couch and the floor just ahead of it. There's about eighty-five computer monitors in the entire room, but apparently all those graphic-artist-types need them, so whatever. Really it's all just a sign of the fact that they've made it. They're successful. They're on the way to taking over this city like some certain huge corporation that shall not be named, whose workers number about half of Austin, Texas at this rate. And honestly? He's pleased as punch to show it all off to Brian. He may only be in town for a week right now, what with his students being out of classes and whatnot, but hey, Dan'll take full advantage of it.  
  
"I assume this desk is yours," Brian drawls, and Danny comes back to see Brian drawing a finger over one of Suzy's massive stilettos that she doesn't wear anymore, one that's sitting jauntily on a desk with a lamp strategically placed near it.  
  
Danny chuckles a little nervously as he stops beside him. "You, uh...you don't think that..." And Brian glances up again, just holds his gaze in that certain way that Dan still can't really pick apart. Like...is he amused at Danny's rambling or is he imagining dressing Dan up like a schoolgirl with a taste for complicated footwear? It could go either way. He settles for clearing his throat. "Suzy was using it, like, for reference or something and drawing it for...like...one of Arin's videos, and..." He's still staring. Danny feels himself start to get a little flustered, and before he can ramble on he just says "Fuck it" and walks away, listening to Brian's deep laugh behind him.  
  
"THIS," Danny eventually says with an aggressive point, "is my desk, thank you very much."  
  
"Can't be. Where's the menorah?"  
  
"Ha. Haha. The menorah. I get it. It's funny because I'm...I'm Jewish..." Danny sort of trails off when Brian picks up the  notebook on his desk, the one with the sort of cheap fabric representation of the British flag on it.  
  
Brian turns it over in his hands for a few moments of silence, just...smiling softly down at it, like how he watches a kitten play or a puppy trip or that one time when Danny woke up to see Brian cuddling close and watch him sleep. Exactly like that. Like this is something to be treasured and memorized. "...I didn't know you used it."  
  
"Yeah, well..." Brian had sent him the notebook just a few weeks before, and honestly it already had about thirty pages filled. And not just with lyrics, but with his thoughts, dreams, crude doodles of Brian's dick, all of that.  
  
He sort of hopes Brian won't open it and see those right now.  
  
Danny gets ready to continue the tour, is already mumbling things like "So, uh, this is my desk, and my laptop, and..." when Brian flicks his eyes up and meets Danny's again. But there's no soft sentimental light this time. Not even any amusement. There's something that makes Danny's words come to a complete stop.  
  
He still hasn't come up for a good word to describe it. All he knows is that when he sees it, his body has apparently decided that he is required to get hard.  
  
"You missed me, didn't you?" Brian murmurs, tilting his head to the side.  
  
"...uhh..."  
  
"Does it embarrass you to say that?" He slowly smiles. "That you missed me?"  
  
"...uhh, I just-"  
  
"Embarrassed enough to make you sound like your father?" he teases.  
  
"Shut the fuck up." He's smiling a little too, but it sort of starts to drain away when Brian sets the notebook down - perfectly right where it was before, he notices - and starts to approach him. "I mean, yeah, of course I missed you, I a _lways_ miss you."  
  
"It sounds so romantic when you put it that way." Dry and teasing, tinged with a taste of the accent he keeps picking up every once and a while when he goes to London, not quite like what he always hears in movies or TV shows but strangely similar. "No wonder I couldn't resist fucking you."  
  
Dan backs into his desk at that point, one hand tangling with the straps of his backpack and trying to shove it away from where one of his lyrics binders in it is biting into the small of his back. "Oh, you know, I just...have that charm, don't I?"  
  
And then Brian's right there in front of him, shoving the backpack aside with enough force that it falls on the floor - thank GOD it doesn't have anything breakable in there - before he plants one hand on either side of Danny on the desk and tilts his head to the side. His eyes trace over Dan's face in his painfully slow motion, lick over his neck, hover on his collarbone from where he caved and wore a shirt with a slight v-neck today because goddamn he wanted Brian to look at him, to notice the angle of his bones and the length of his neck, and wow, apparently it's working better than he thought because Brian's leaning in and just...just barely dragging his smooth lips slowly up the line of his collarbone, just ever so lightly tugging a shaky breath out of Dan. "But I somehow don't know...if you missed me...quite enough..."  
  
He tries not to gasp when he feels Brian nuzzling at his neck, when he hears him quietly inhale.  
  
Brian breathes a chuckle against his skin, grins so slowly that Danny can feel his lips spreading against his pulse. "...is that my soap?"  
  
"I, uh..." He gulps, mind slightly short-circuited.  
  
"Tell me, Dan."  
  
"Look, I-I just...I really fucking needed you around, and...and that was just the easiest way to-"  
  
"You stole a bar of my soap and used it to think of me."  
  
"W-well, it sounds sort of pathetic when you put it that way-"  
  
Brian's hand seizes Danny's hip like a claw, squeezes tight as he pushes him up onto the desk. "Tell me something, Danny, how often have you used that soap?"  
  
"I...I don't-"  
  
And then a red hot pain bursting from his scalp as Brian rakes through his hair, pulling his head to the side and whispering in his ear right through Danny's sharp moan. "How many times have you thought of me when you showered with that?"  
  
"Jesus fuck, Brian, I...a dozen. I-I don't know-"  
  
"Twelve times...that you've used my soap. Twelve showers. And let me guess." That hand on his hip teleports, he swears it fucking does, because it's not even a millisecond before it's palming him through his jeans. "Twelve times that you fucked your own hand while the water burned your skin."  
  
"Oh _fuck,_ " he whimpers, grinding into that hand.  
  
"Am I right?"  
  
"I...fuck, Brian-"  
  
"I'm wrong, aren't I?" He chuckles against his neck, but he doesn't kiss, doesn't suck, doesn't lick, doesn't do a fucking thing but hover there so tantalizingly close that Danny's pulse flutters all the faster. "You don't have a lick of self-restraint when it comes to me. You never have. So how many? Thirteen? Maybe fourteen times?"  
  
"Nnf-"  
  
"More than that?"  
  
"Mm-hmm..."  
  
"Oh, look at you, applying yourself to the task," Brian drawls with another quiet laugh. Danny feels Brian's eyelashes tickle his skin as he no doubt looks down at his hand, where he's languidly stroking the growing bulge in Dan's pants. "How many?"  
  
"There...there was a day I...fuck, Brian, I wanted you so fucking bad, I just..."  
  
"Do tell."  
  
"I...I bought this..."  
  
He presses down almost painfully. "Tell me, Daniel."  
  
"Fuck!" He bucks his hips into his touch, swears he sees a flash of white right there behind his eyelids and they're not even past the teasing stage. "I-I have a cock ring now."  
  
"You're kidding."  
  
"I was wearing it and I - shit - I fucking just...just kept going, and-"  
  
"How many times did I make you come, Dan?"  
  
"Four. Four times."  
  
"What an incredible water bill to sacrifice in the name of being a fucking cumslut."  
  
"Mmnh-!"  
  
"Because that's what you are, aren't you, Danny?" That hand sneaks up and pops the button of his jeans - there was no use wearing a belt today, Dan just fucking knew it. "Just a dirty. Little. Cumslut."  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"I can't even leave you alone for a day before you're rutting into the bed like the filthy little thing you are." Brian's drifting up his neck, purring the words into his skin until he finally reaches his ear. "If I walked out the door right now, you'd touch yourself, wouldn't you? You'd jerk your own cock until you came all over your fucking new chair, and every time you'd see it you'd get hard all over again, wouldn't you?"  
  
"God, yes, Brian-"  
  
"And when I go back to London, if I text you when you're working here and tell you to rub yourself until you come in your pants-"  
  
"I'll fucking do it, Brian," Danny whispers, every word feeling like it's flowing from his mouth without ever touching his brain, "I'll fuck my own hand without a fucking sound-"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"And I'll send you a fucking picture of the damage."  
  
"Good boy." The zipper's coming down, and fuck, Danny's already so ready, just a little glance down tells him he's hard as a rock. God, is he...yeah, he's got precum actually bleeding through his jeans, the old things that they are, with the fabric as thin as anything. Brian chuckles again, hot and heavy against his ear. "...are these jeans...the only things you're wearing."  
  
"I..."  
  
He doesn't even have to answer, not if Brian's just going to plunge his hand down and cup Danny's cock. "They _are._ You horny little bastard. You wanted this to happen." He squeezes and talks over Danny's groan. "You wanted me to get you off right here on this desk. You fucking slut." And he pulls at Danny's jeans, and Danny lifts himself up on his hands to make it easier, kicks off his shoes just in time for Brian to shove the pants to the ground, not a trace of boxers to be seen. "You didn't even lock the fucking door, do you know that? I bet you planned that too. Just dying for somebody to walk in on us."  
  
Brian rips open one of his drawers and doesn't even take a second before he finds the bottle of lube there with a single chuckle. That's all it takes, really; Danny's pulling at Brian's belt and making fast work of it even with the way his hands are shaking from how he's been fantasizing about this since the second they all got their desks placed.  
  
"Doesn't even matter who it is, does it?" Brian growls as he starts slicking up his hand, the whole fucking thing, until it's glossy and ready. "It could be anybody and you'd _still_ let me fuck you in front of them."  
  
"Brian..."  
  
"You fucking get off on it, don't you." The second that Brian's cock is free, his pants and boxer briefs around his ankles, he grabs both of their dicks in hand with a little gasp of his own, and then it's zero to sixty, nothing and then almost mind-blowing stimulation when he jerks them together. "You'd get off on showing Suzy what I do to you, wouldn't you? You're such a slut for my cock you'd be moaning like a fucking whore before I even got your pants off."  
  
Danny locks his legs around Brian on instinct, lets out a cry as he throws his head back, eyes shut as tight as he can manage.  
  
"...fuck, you look good like this. Letting me use you. Letting me get you off exactly like I want."  
  
And he loves listening to Brian like this, when he's fucking Danny. Loves listening to the little breathy edge his voice gets. The way he'll slur the ends of a few of his words the closer he gets to coming.  
  
"Such a good little cockslut..."  
  
He wishes he could just shut his mouth and listen because it's the fucking hottest thing he's ever heard in his life, but no, he can't, he's gotta let Brian hear exactly what he feels. Has to translate every spark and spasm into a note that he moans. Has to whisper his name like a prayer.  
  
"You...would let me do _anything_ to you..."  
  
"Fuck yes, Brian...fuck... _fuck._ "  
  
"That's right, come for me."  
  
There's fire suddenly, thick hot tendrils shooting straight through him like electricity.  
  
"Come for me, you fucking _slut._ "  
  
"Brian-!" And he does exactly what Brian wants, shoots out ribbon after ribbon of come with a strangled shout, only feels another wave of fire right on the edge of the first when Brian lets go just as fast with a groan of his own.  
  
And for a few seconds Danny just drifts, still tilted back, still gasping for breath with his eyes closed. But then Brian tugs at his shirt until he's collapsed against him, face buried in his shoulder. Finally whispers "I missed you too, Dan."  
  
Danny chuckles weakly, clenching handfuls of Brian's t-shirt for a moment like a kitten kneading a pillow, before he shakes his head. "You realize we're gonna have to walk all the way down a public hall to the bathroom covered in jizz, right."  
  
"...uh..."  
  
"Dammit, Brian, you're supposed to be the smart one."  
  
"Shut up."


End file.
